


An Interlude in the Library

by TillySnape



Series: Happiness in Marriage [2]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Lizzy has a fantasy, Lizzy wins him over, Married Life, Married Sex, Slightly prudish Darcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TillySnape/pseuds/TillySnape
Summary: “Her proximity was still enough to undo him, though they has been wed these three months, for he could not get enough of her.“Elizabeth has a dream and finds herself quite tolerable enough to tempt Darcy into re-enacting it.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Series: Happiness in Marriage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661659
Comments: 32
Kudos: 424





	An Interlude in the Library

“Elizabeth...” Darcy hissed.

“Yes, Fitzwilliam?” Her voice warm enough to melt the snow outside, her hand trailing up his thigh. He squirmed in his seat.

“_M-r-s_ Darcy!” He attempted to regain his dignity. “We are in the _library_.”

“I am _aware_, Mr Darcy...” How did she make his name sound so obscene? “Indeed, I find myself quite...undone... by the setting.”

“Undone?” His voice sounded somewhat high, and he coughed, hoping to regain his usual deep rumble. “How so?”

“Last night,” she confided, leaning close, “I had a dream about the library.” Her proximity was still enough to undo _him_, though they has been wed these three months, for he could not get enough of her. He found the smell of roses wafting from her dark curls intoxicating.

“A dream?”

“Yes...” She leaned even closer, one hand bracing herself on his leg, the other snaking around his back to rest on his opposite shoulder. Her lips were teasingly close, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered “It was rather _provoking_.” He shuddered with pleasure at the brush  
of her lips against his ear. “Do you wish to hear of it?”

“Elizabeth, I wish to hear anything you would tell me.”

“My love, are you sure?”

He raised a quizzical brow. “I cannot think why I would not be.”

She drew back a little to look in his eyes.

“You may not find it appropriate for the _library_.”

“But did it not _occur_ in the library?”

“In my dream, it did. And in truth I would not mind should it occur now, too.”

“Elizabeth, will you not tell me?”

“I find myself shy. Perchance I should _show_ you instead.”

His eyes were drawn to her creamy bosom as she rose in front of him, and he followed it upwards, a little dazed. Elizabeth smiled at this evidence that her scheme was working.

Happily, inside their rooms Fitzwilliam’s love was as passionate and ardent as she could hope. Indeed, she was most fortunate in her marriage. Her husband wished, above all things, to ensure _her_ happiness. Yet, he was still a proud and reserved man, and he could be stubborn in his dignity. She had found he required some slight management to encourage his baser desires _outside_ the bedroom

“Lock the door, I do not care to be disturbed.”

“What is it that you wish to show me?” His voice had a hopeful, slightly hoarse quality. His tight breeches were showing evidence of his interest.

She raised an eyebrow. He moved quickly to lock the door and return to her side.

She led him to one of the tall bookcases lining the walls. “We were here.”

“I was in this dream?” He moved closer to her, and she backed up until she felt the lip of the bookcase against her bottom.

“Yes. Like so...”

She took his hands, placing one at the back of her head. “But entwined in my hair.” He complied with her direction and was rewarded with a smile. “And this one was...” She placed it on her side, just skimming the underside of her breast.

He moved it by force of habit, hefting the weight of her breast in his hand and trailing his thumb over the fabric of her dress to tease her nipple. “Here?”

“_Yessss_...” she sighed, happily.

“And then?” he murmured.

Elizabeth twinned her arms around his neck, her hands burying themselves in his curls, and her body closing what little gap remained between them.

“As you might expect.” she replied.

He bent his head to hers, their lips meeting, opening to each other, their tongues tangling in a now well-practiced dance. Her hands raked his scalp and he shivered. His hands continued to tease her breasts, sliding over the silk of her dress and up, fingers trailing along her neckline, and then dipping below it. Her head tipped back as he moved to lick and suck at her neck, falling against the books with a thud.

“You dreamed _this_, my love?”

“Yes”’ she groaned. “And next you lifted me up.”

“Up?”

“For _access_.”

She tugged the sleeves of her dress downward and gestured at the lip on the bookcase, which was conveniently situated almost level with his groin.

“Will you take me in your mouth, Fitzwilliam?”

“Would you not prefer to retire to our rooms?”

“No, Husband.” She replied firmly.

Noticing that her breasts had slipped from the top of her dress as she gestured, he forgot his objections. He took a moment to fondle her pert bottom, before his large hands encircled her waist and lifted her onto the lip of the bookcase, drawing a very satisfactory gasp from her own lips.

His mouth went directly to her nipple, suckling. That was not _quite_ what, or rather, _where_, she had meant, but she was enjoying it all the same, holding his head against her in encouragement.

He shifted her skirts aside and stroked her stocking encased leg.

“Higher.” Begging.

The skin above her stocking was just as silky. His member was straining to be freed.

“_Now_ may we go to our rooms?”

“No. You must take me here. Against the bookshelf.”

“Elizabeth!” He was scandalised. “You wish to have a flyer in the library? I cannot! I would not disrespect my wife so.”

“If it _is_ disrespect Fitzwilliam, then I would have you disrespect me in every room of the house!”

His mouth went dry. An image of the table in the breakfast room flashed into his mind. “_Every_...?”

“And in the garden too.”

He instantly turned hard as stone.

She fumbled at his fall, releasing him.

“Your instrument seems most ready to do its’ work, Fitzwilliam. Say you shall allow me this pleasure, my love.”

“Pleasure” he repeated, dumbly.

She took him in her little hand, pulling him towards her.

“Pleasure” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes”, he growled, pushing her skirts up to aid her in positioning him where she wanted him. She was slippery with anticipation and his cock slid through her wet folds, both of them groaning at the contact, before he plunged into her. Her heat enveloped him. He had to remind himself to breathe. She raised one leg to bring him closer, deeper inside her, resting it around his waist. He braced himself against the shelves and kissed her hard, before beginning to move.

He slid out slowly, tortuously, before drove in as far as he could go, again and again, his dark eyes holding hers in thrall. She could feel the spines of the books against hers as his thrusts forced her backwards. The fabric of his coat and breeches scraped roughly against her chest and thighs, contrasting with the velvety hardness within her. She brought her hand down to meet his and he entwined their fingers, never breaking eye contact, never stopping his teasing strokes. Impatient, she pushed back against him, asking “More.”

He ignored her.

“Fitzwilliam, _faster_.” She pleaded.

He smirked. “No.” But he ground more deeply against her. She ached for him.

“Fitz...will...i...am... _please_...I need...”

She moaned loudly, and he smiled. He _adored_ her moans.

“What do you need, my love?”

“_More_”

“More what?”

“Everything!”

He _had_ to kiss her again. Their tongues matched their rhythm lower down. His hand moved to her breast, roughly thumbing her nipple in the way he knew she preferred. Her breathless little grunts told him he was performing satisfactorily. He sped up. She gasped into his mouth.

He stopped kissing her to concentrate on his thrusts, remembering to grind into her to stimulate the little nub that made her pant so. She was pinned fast to the bookcase by his body, her hair beginning to tumble down from its pins. He thought her the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“_Lizzzzzzzy_” he keened.

She began to make the low whine that told him her time was near. He heard a noise in the hallway and quickly put his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. His movements were becoming erratic. The violence of the last dislodged a book from above them, and it crashed to the floor as stars exploded behind his eyes, and he groaned her name into her shoulder.

It took some moments for them to come back to themselves. At last he stepped back and helped her slide down from the bookshelf, pulling her bodice back into place and letting her skirts drop to re-cover her modestly. He tucked himself back into his trousers and did up the buttons. The clock in the corner chimed the hour; their encounter had lasted not ten minutes. Aside from Elizabeth’s tumbling locks and the book on floor, easily fixed, no one would know anything had happened here at all. As always, he thought, his wife had the right of it.

“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. That was much better than my dream.”

“Of course, Elizabeth. I would not suspend any pleasure of yours.” He smirked. “Now, I seem to remember you mentioned something about the garden?”


End file.
